


Curiosity (SPN)

by StoryQueen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gay Sex, Hostage Situations, Kidnapping, M/M, Road Trips, awesomeness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 18:52:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2239665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoryQueen/pseuds/StoryQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>”Lucifer sent me.”<br/>"What does he want with me?"<br/>"He wants you to deliver something special for him."</p><p>Or the one where Dean has to take a ‘package’ to France, but the package is Cas, and he’s taking Cas to his death.</p><p> </p><p>((Basically a 1D fic I've recycled, cause I loved the storyline and I wanted to share it with the SPN community...))</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curiosity (SPN)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Curiosity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1646981) by [StoryQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoryQueen/pseuds/StoryQueen). 



It was eleven at night, and most of the room was dark. Dean would have turned the light on, if not for Sam wanting to watched Saw in complete darkness. The changing lightness of the TV was annoying Dean as he sat at the adjoined kitchen breakfast table, a pen in his hand, his reading glasses on his face, and a pile of paper work below his nose.

Dean tapped his pen thoughtfully, staring blankly as the word began to twist around and merge into each other. He knew he should be wearing his green irlens glasses, but he felt self-conscience with them on after Sam had commented that he looked like John Lennon. He was straining his eyes in the dark, and it didn't help that he was tired. He new job wasn't as nice as some of his other jobs. Though, he can't complain; there was one job he didn't want to return to.

Dean had never been someone who could get a good job. He had the appearance and the attitude, but somehow he was always outdone by someone else. He had worked in McDonalds for some time, and then did some secret shopping just to get some extra cash. He got a real job after that, working at a bakery, but he got fired for nicking a cake because he was hungry. A few more odd jobs came about, and for some time he was a handy man, washing cars and painting walls to earn some money.

It was a year ago this week that Dean had met Lucifer. It started as a quick window cleaning job and led to the horror Dean can never forget.

Dean shuddered quickly, looking up from the swirling black and white words. He noticed the movie was silent, and Sam walked past him into the kitchen area of their two bedroomed flat.

"You alright?" Sam asked, opening the cupboard and taking out some ready made popcorn.

Dean nodded, then looked back down at his work.

"You've been doing that assignment for the past six hours. Does uni work really take that long?"

Dean rubbed his eyes, wanting to ignore Sam. After everything that had happened, Dean had decided to start uni, taking an online course so he could at least get a proper job with a qualification. Sam didn't care about real jobs. He was fine with what they were both doing.

"I've not been that focused," Dean truthfully said as he began to stand up. It was about time he got to bed. Sam could sit around on his fat arse all night as far as he cared, but he just wanted some sleep.

Dean glanced at the calender as he passed the fridge, and another cold chill ran down his spine.

June 17.

It was one year today.

Sam must have noticed something and patted Dean on the back as he walked past him back to the movie. "You get to bed, Dean. Tomorrow night is Monday; you're turn to work."

Sam didn't need to remind him. Ten months into his job, and he was hating it as much as he did when he started. It wasn't his fault he got into this line of work. After what Lucifer had put him through, he needed access to money quick, and after meeting up with his long lost brother, who ran away when he was fifteen, down at some dodgy club, he knew this was the only way. He didn't know much to begin with; about prostitution. Sam had taught him, and he taught him well, at least, that's the impression Dean gets from his clients.

Dean watched as Sam sat down carefully on the sofa, and it reminded him of last night. Saturday was Sam's night on the job. (Switching every other night made it safer so one was free to save the other if anything bad happened.) Sam had got it hard- literally- and Dean remained himself of the blood he had to scrub of Sam while he cried in the shower.

Dean had seen worse blood in his life.

A year ago today.

He closed the door softly behind him, hearing as the bolt secured the door shut. Nobody could get in. He walked over to his window, picking up the key that lay on his desk on his way there, and locked the window too. He threw the key back onto the table and lay on his bed.

He shut his eyes straight away, relief washing over his as his eyes praised the rest they earned. Dean sighed, relaxing his shoulders further into the duvet below him. He knew he had to take his day clothes off, and probably his shoes as well, but he was too tired to do that. He'd probably regret it in the morning when he had lines running down his legs from the folded jeans digging into his in the night, but he didn't care right now. He let sleep wash over him, dragging his further down into the darkness.

\---

Glass shattered. That's what woke Dean. He opened his eyes and resisted the urge to sit bolt upright. He listened for a second, and at first he couldn't hear anything. The electricity was buzzing, and the pipes were humming, but that was it.

He tried to convince himself it was nothing, that maybe it was just someone breaking a car window outside. But his sleepy head started thinking. What if someone was robbing a car? What if it was his car?

He reluctantly swung his legs over the edge of the bed and plodded over to the window, pulling the curtains back ever so slightly to get a look at the street light illuminated alley where his car was parked. It was fine, and after a quick glance, so was every other car on the street.

Dean hummed to himself, shrugging it off. It was probably someone in another flat dropping a glass vase, or something of the sorts.

He sat back on the edge of his bed, and was about to tuck his cold legs under the warm duvet when he heard a footstep crunching over broken glass. He took note of the distance of the sound, and he didn't need much more convincing that there was an intruder in his flat. It could of been Sam, for all he knew, but that didn' stop him from grabbing his baseball bat from behind the door and slowly unlocking his door, bat ready to swing.

The living area was dark, the thick curtains now allowing any light to shine through the balcony doors. Dean walked slowly, every step turning his body slightly so that he was circle stepping. It was quiet again, except for the crunching of glass beneath Dean's still shoed feet. He looked down and quickly followed the trail of crystals to where the balcony door stood- or at least, use to stand. Dean quickly worried about how on Earth he and Sam were going to pay for that, but then remembered the situation in hand. By then, it was almost too late.

The bat was whipped from his hand, and in a desperate attempt to both simultaneously grab it back and swing it, his body turned and he tripped over his own feet, and he heavily landed on the small pieces of glass. He yelped, and tried to get up, only to cut his hand on more glass.

Dean looked up quickly, seeing a dark figure looming over him. He wanted to scramble away, but realised his arse would bleed more than Sam's yesterday if he tried. He stared up in horror was the figure threw his bat behind him, and reached out towards him.

Dean was sure this person was going to hit him, but a gentle hand touched him, and he found himself being pulled up, and with a quick swipe over his arse as the person knocked off the small pieces of glass, Dean was okay.

"Are you okay?" The voice was not Sam's Irish one, but Dean had figured that this person wasn't Sam. He was too strong to be his small twink brother.

Dean was still wary of this stranger. He could be an ex-client back for more. He could be a burglar. He could be part of the bloody government for all he knew.

"I'm fine," he said dryly, running a hand over his slightly bleeding butt cheeks, but then turned harsher. "What the fuck are you doing in my house?"

What was said next both simultaneously shocked and terrified Dean, so much so Dean thought he was about to fall back onto the glass coated floor. His head spun, his stomach churned, and his eyes burned. He'd rather face a fate before the Slender Man than hear those words again.

"Lucifer sent me."

The man obviously say Dean's reaction, and quickly grabbed Dean's arm, leading his over to the sofa. They sat down, and everything was silent before Dean came to his wits.

"Lucifer?"

The man nodded. Dean was silent another moment before burying his face into his hands. He could feel the tears welling in his eyes, and the vomit about to pour out of his mouth to join the crystals that scattered around the room. He felt like an innocent man who was just told we was to be hung for murder.

"What does he want with me?" His voice was shaking, like his hands, and he quickly licked his drying lips.

The man placed a hand on his knee. "He wants you to deliver something special for him." The man moved closer, changing his hand from Dean's knee to his shoulder blade. "He says that you are the best one for the job."

Dean looked up from behind his hands. It was still dark, and he still couldn't see the man's face. He wanted to. He wanted to know who the Devil was hiring nowadays.

The man lent over to the other side of the sofa, quickly pulling a brief case over and placing it on his knees. He opened it with a quick click, the metal rimming glinting in the dim light, and Dean could smell the content before he saw it. He knew it was pink and cream, paper thin and hot off the press, large bulks of the stuff.

Money. Wads of fifty-pound notes all piled up, waiting to be spent. Dean wanted to grin, but he realised that to get the money, he'd have to work for Lucifer.

That bastard.

Dean pushed the briefcase away. "I don't want his filthy money."

The man sighed, closing the case. "I'm sure that Lucifer could persuade you in other means."

It was in this moment that Dean realised that Sam was missing in all of this. He had not came out of his room when the glass was smashed. He had not awoke to the voices discussing business. Dean clenched his fists, digging his finger nails into his palms.

"Where is he?"

The man gave a quick chuckle, raising from his seat. "My associate, Agent M has taken your friend away from here." He slowly paced over to the balcony, carefully pulling back the thick curtains. The stream of light that entered haloed around the man's face. Dean got a good look at him. He was young, early twenties at most, with long, golden hair. His golden eyes glowed at Dean, and after catching his eye, he turned away, the light now glowing over the top of his hair.

"And I suggest, if you want him to be untouched, you do as Lucifer wants. I'm sure that he's use to being touched, but I'm sure this early after his injury the other night, he'll probably won't like it."

He took a step out, still holding the curtains. "Everything you need is in your car. The sooner you leave, the better."

Dean thought that was the last of it, that this man was going to walk away and leave him stood there, but he said one last thing before the curtain draped in front of his view of him. "He was a good fuck, you know."

\---

He didn't really know why he was getting into his car this early in the morning. It had not been two minutes after the bastard had left, and he was already taking orders from Lucifer. He couldn't control his thoughts.

Why did Lucifer want him? That man was the one who hurt Sam! Would Sam be okay? Why was he even doing this? What was the package? Why didn't Lucifer tell him upright like he did last time?

Lucifer was a lying, cheating bastard that always got his own way. He tricked Dean once into thinking he was nice, but now he was just being damn right evil. Dean wouldn't have minded so much if the man had took out a gun and had threatened Dean's life, but he was messing with his brother's life now, and Dean wasn't going to live with the fact that his brother died because he was a coward.

Dean wished that he had never had met Lucifer. He wished that he had never taken the job. Never believed every work that bastard said and did everything he told him to. He only escaped because the deed was done and he just wanted to forget about it all.

But now it was all happening again, and Dean could do nothing about it.

He sat in his seat of his car, slamming the door shut. He noticed the sat nav stuck to the windshield, and he quickly pressed the 'on' button. The logo screen came on, and after quickly calibrating the coordinations, the loud female voice instructed, "Turn... left..."

Dean couldn't tell where it was going to lead him, and he didn't want to mess around with the sat nav in case he deleted the destination and mess up the whole thing and Sam get hurt, so he put the key into the car and turned it on. He drove to the end of the alley and turned left, catching up to ten miles over the speed limit, and riding into the darkness.

\---

Dean only stopped when he realised that he was going to die of bladder explosion. He was on the motorway heading North, so pulled into a petrol station just off the road and ran inside. He did his business in the small, dirty toilet, and then came back into the show area and bought himself some chocolate. There was no point having a proper meal; he knew he would probably just vomit it back up later. He decided that now was a good time to put more diesel into the car, and after paying for that he got back on the motorway and drove off.

His radio was broken, which was annoying. He was bored out of his mind, eight hours of driving and nothing to entertain him with. He had left his phone at home, and despite bashing his forehead into the steering wheel in frustration, it did not solve the problem.

He lent over quickly and opened his glove box, hoping to find his MP3 player he knew he had left somewhere in here last week. He kept his eyes on the road as he opened it, and then glanced down when there were no cars around him.

A shadow black hand gun lay still in the glove box. Dean almost knocked the wheel when he saw it, but gained his composure and put both hands back and the wheel and looked at the road.

He knew what it meant. Deliver the package by any means necessary. Kill, if he had too.

Lucifer was evil and twisted.

It distracted him a lot. He would glance down at it every few seconds, and in the end he realised he couldn't really escape it, so took it out of the glove box and placed it on the passenger seat. He closed the glove box and focused back on the road. The gun was sat next to him, and that was fine. Nothing for him to panic about.

\---

When he finally heard the female voice say, "You have, reached... your destination," in the slow and robotic voice, Dean wanted to sigh with relief and scream in terror. He had been driving for eleven hours straight, and he needed a rest. But, he was here now, and he needed to pick up this package.

He debated waiting in the car for someone to show up, but he couldn't see anyone in the old scrap yard. There was mountains of old, squashed cars, but apart from his own, he couldn't see any in use cars waiting for the exchange.

He opened his door and got out, slamming his door behind him. He started to walk when he realised he really should be carrying that gun with him. He didn't really agree with having it, but he'd rather have it than die because he left it. He turned around quickly, diving into his car and grabbing the gun. He go back out and pushed it into the back of his pants, hiding it behind his loose T-shirt.

There was a bunker over on the far left of the yard, and Dean thought it was best he walk over there. He plodded around, keeping an eye on his surroundings. He couldn't help feel a cold shiver. This was a car graveyard, and it was a reminder of what was going to happen to the package he was going to deliver; end up in a graveyard.

He was right about going to the bunker. He entered through the big doors slowly to find three men stood there. They were all wearing black, one of them with a ski mask pulled down over their face, there other two with their masks worn like beanies. Dean noticed the sports bag placed in the middle of the men, and Dean had half expected it to be squirming around like the last one was.

"You Winchester?" one of the men called. Dean nodded, taking another step into the room. He wanted to pass out, but he kept his cool. He just had to deliver the package, get his brother back, get the money Lucifer promised him, then go back to getting fucked for money.

The two unmasked men looked at each other, and then both grabbed each end of the sports bag. They picked it up, and started towards Dean. The masked man walked over and stood next to Dean as the other two carried the bag outside. "Where's your car?"

Dean pointed in the general direction. "Over there, somewhere."

The man patted Dean heavily on the back and followed his fellow workers. Dean followed as well. When they all go to Dean's car, the masked man open the boot and they all shoved the bag into the back. Slamming the boot shut, one of the unmasked men turned to Dean with a glare in his eyes.

"You're not to open the bag, okay?"

Dean nodded. He had been told about this last time, except last time he didn't care about consequences, and he had opened the bag.

The man patted his back equally as hard as the masked one, and the three walked off by the to bunker, muttering their goodbyes.

Dean sat back in the drivers seat and breathed deeply.

That other bag. He couldn't stop thinking about it. He had pulled up at a petrol station, and out of curiosity he had opened the bag to reveal a white haired girl, duct tape around her mouth and wrists, screaming and begging to be let free. He had ignored her, zipping the bag back up and continuing on his way. He couldn't quite forget those piercing grey eyes, especially when he saw the news report on how they found Perrie Edwards, age 20, torchered and disemboweled, the report accompanied by a picture of the girl with grey eyes.

Dean turned the sat nav back on, and it was already set up for his next journey. He slowly pulled out of the scrap yard and headed South.

\---

He had to stop when he realised his eyes were slowly started to close. He didn't want to crash the car, so pulled up at a Premier Inn and got out of the car. He thought a moment about leaving the bag in the car, but then, maybe out of pure curiosity of what would happen, opened the boot and put the bag over his shoulder.

It was heavier than he imagined, but he tried not to look like he was struggling as he walked in the building and up to the front desk.

"Hello, have you got a room for the night?" He tried to give his best fake smile he could. It was hard to smile when he was carrying an unconscious human in a bag over his shoulder, who he was sending to their persecution and then death.

The lady at the desk gave him his key and he found his room. He opened the door and dropped the bag into the middle of the floor, and after locking the door he made his way and lay on the bed.

He stared at the ceiling for a while, drawing patterns with the crazy texture of the white roof. He sighed, relaxing into the duvet, and he felt deja vu as he did so. Just, this time there was a body in a bag a few feet away from him.

His head drooped to the side, his sleepy eyelids covering half of his eyes as he stared at the black sports bag. He couldn't quite tell if it was real, or if he had fatigue schizophrenia, but the bag moved a little, like a leg trying to stretch. He breathed in slowly, then let it all out with a sigh, and slowly got up from his comfortable position to kneel on the floor next to the bag.

He poked the person hard, apparently in the ribs because the person let out a yelp and flinched. The person's arms flared around in the confined space, and they tried to scream around the duct tape. They were panting, hyperventilating, scared.

Dean took pity. He knows that he shouldn't, but he did. Dean never learns from his past mistakes.

Curiosity kills the cat.

He pulled the zip open, just enough that the face of the person came into view. Dean was surprised that this person was not some innocent looking girl, but a feather haired, dark blonde male, with tanned skin and stumble dancing across his face behind the tape. His blue eyes were wide with fear as he looked up at the curly haired monster above him.

Dean sighed, quickly zipping the bag back up, much to the boy's protect. He had done it now. This man was going to die, and Dean was sending him there, all because Lucifer was a bastard of a man who had money and enemies... and Sam. Lucifer had Sam.

Dean wanting to lie back down on the bed and go to sleep, but he was worried that the staff might notice the man's muffled screaming. Dean laughed as he imagined the staff walking past and thinking that they were having sex or something, but Dean knew that he booked in as one person, so they would get suspicious, especially since he did get a few raised eyebrows walking in with the heavy bag.

Dean thought about the man for a moment, and then realised that he, and probably the man, were both hungry, so walked to the door and left to room to go and get some foot. He took a risk leaving the screaming man, but he was quick. He found a small cafe area in the main reception and bought two sandwiches and two bottles of cola.

"Hungry," he stated when he thought he saw the man at the till raise an eyebrow, and he then scurried back to his room.

Throwing the sandwiches onto the bed, he knelt back down next to the bag and unzipped it. The boy was looking as terrified as he was before. He knew he must think that Dean was going to kill him- technically, he was- so Dean tried to calm him down.

"Shush, look, I've got you some food." Dean reached behind and picked up a chicken sandwich and took it out of it's plastic wrapper. He brought it down close to the boy's face, and quickly the boy stopped moving and screaming. His eyes were locked onto the sandwich like it was his last meal. Probably was going to be.

"Now, if I take the tape off, you've got to promise me you'll be quiet, okay?" The boy didn't respond, eyes still locked on the sandwich. "If you shout, I won't feed you for the rest of the journey, okay?" The boy nodded.

Dean put the sandwich onto the wrapper and slowly reached up, taking care because he knew what it was like to have tape being ripped off your stubble (he knew from weird, kinky BDSM freak clients.) The boy grunted in pain, his eyes watching Dean's slowly movement as he peeled the tape off. Once half on his mouth was unstuck, then man mumbled out, "Please. Please just let me go."

He locked eyes with Dean, and tears started to glisten his blue eyes. Dean wanted to cover his mouth again, show some dominance, but then remembered that he wasn't here to be a prostitute; he was hear to send this man to his death.

He tore the rest of the tape off a little quicker, making the man yelp. "Please just let me go."

"I can't do that," Dean quickly said dryly, and before the man could plead anymore, he picked the sandwich back up and brought it to his lips. The man took a big bite out of it, moaning at the taste of food. He ate quickly, mumbling thank you's between mouthfuls. When he had finished the first sandwich of his pack, he quickly gasped out something Dean didn't want to know while Dean got his second sandwich.

"My name is Castiel Novak."

Dean shoved he sandwich into his face and stood up. Cas couldn't feed himself, his hands still tied behind his back and most of his body wrapped in the black bag, but Dean didn't care. He sat on the bed and opened his own pack of sandwiches, lifting one to his mouth and taking a big bite, his back to Cas.

They both ate in silence, Dean finishing his two sandwiches before turning back to see Cas struggling to get half way through his that was lying on the floor next to his face. Dean sighed and sat down next to him again, bringing it up to his mouth. Cas finished it quickly, muttering another, "Thank you," as he licked the crumbs off of his face.

"What's your name?"

Dean had no idea why Cas would want to know the name of the man who is delivering him to be executed, so gave the first name that came to his head. "Sam."

"Sam?" Cas asked, thinking about that name for a moment. "I'm sure I knew someone named Sam."

"Look," Dean said, picking the tape back up off of the floor, "I'm going to have to put this back on. I wasn't suppose to open the bag."

"Please don't. I promise I won't scream. Remember: you wont feed me, otherwise."

Dean wondered why Cas wasn't acting so scared, but then realised. Cas was trying to play mind games. Cas was going to try and trick his way out of this. Clever, Dean thought, but since Sam's life was on the line here, Dean wasn't going to fall for it.

"I'm sorry. Rules are rules." And with that the tape was back on, a little less sticky than Dean had hoped, and the bag was zipped up again. Dean turned around, took off his jeans and shoes, and climbed into bed, waiting until he heard soft snores coming from the bag before he allowed himself to fall under fatigue's grasp.

\---

Dean thought he might of woke in the night to Cas screaming, but he didn't. The boy must have slept through the whole night, and was probably still asleep as Dean jumped back into his jeans and waltzed over to the bag. It was eight in the morning, and they needed to get moving.

He rudely kicked the bag, earning himself a scream of pain from Cas. "Morning, sunshine," he called down, and he got a grumpy grumble in reply. "We've got to get going. We've got a long way to travel!"

Then Dean realised that carrying Cas out now would be harder. He was unconscious before, but now he was awake. He would have been away anyway if he hadn't of woken him up. He got an idea.

He unzipped the bag to see Cas glaring at him, eyes daggering into Dean's skull. "Look." Dean pulled the gun from the back of his jeans. "If you make any movement or sound while I get you back to the car, a lot of innocent people are going to die, okay?"

Cas' eyes widened. Dean must of been a good actor. Dean knew he couldn't shoot anyone; he didn't have the guts, but Cas seemed to believe that he would.

He quickly zipped the bag back up and, with great effort, heaved the bag onto his back. He left the room, Cas silent and motionless. The reception was full of people checking out. If Cas wanted to escape, this would be the perfect time.

Dean signed out quickly, and made it to the car. He thanked the Gods that Cas had kept to what he had said as he opened the boot of the car and pushed the bag in. He closed the boot and got into the front.

"Cas, can you hear me?" He didn't know whether or not Cas would be able to hear him. He was more concerned about Cas hearing the sat nav, in case he got any ideas. Much to his disappointment, Cas grunted in reply, and the back seats of the car banged and Cas punched them with his tied hands in the bag. Dean smirked, gave a small chuckle, then started the engine. He drove away from the Premier Inn and onto the motorway.

\---

Nothing much happens. Dean tries to entertain himself by playing 'Guess who long it'll be before Cas screams', which he usually guesses right, because every ten minutes Cas thrashes around the boot of his car, mumbling screams.

It was about an hour into the drive when Dean sees a service station park and pulls into it. He parks his car in the far corner, hidden behind some bushes, away from CCTV cameras. He grabbed a penknife he kept under his seat, hopped out, making sure no one is watching, and opened the boot. He unzips the bag and takes a look at Cas.

"Listen. I suppose you need the toilet, so I'm going to untie you, but I want you to stay close to me." He lifts his top up a little bit so Cas can get a glance at his gun. "I know how to use this," he lied, "and if you try to escape, you'll die. If you try to get someone to help you, they'll die. Got it?"

Cas nodded. Dean stared at Cas for a moment, but then reaches forward and peeled the tape off his mouth. It wasn't as sticky as before, Cas' breath wettening the glue. He unzipped the bag more to find the smaller boy dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. He grabs Cas' hand and pulls him around, taking out his penknife and cutting through the tape around his wrists. He realises that he won't be able to tie Cas up again, but he'll worry about that when it comes to it.

He cuts Cas' ankles free as well and helps him out of the bag. Cas stretches his limps, groaning in relief as his joints click. "Thanks," he mumbles.

Dean grabs his collar and yanks him out of the boot. He closes the boot with a slam, grabbing Cas' wrist and dragging him towards the service mall. Whether it's his prostitute dominant side coming out or whether it's the fact he has a job to do, he knows he's being rough with Cas. Cas glares quickly at him, trying to pull his arm back, but Dean notices him glance down at the spot he knows where the gun is, and Cas is suddenly co-operative.

They enter the mall, and Dean spots the toilets at the far end. There are quite a few people here, a lot of families travelling to their holidays, and a few business people, and Dean sees Cas look around, and he can tell that Cas' imagining Dean killing them because he made a stupid move.

They get to the toilet, and Cas tries to run to a cubical, but ends up dragging Dean along with him. Dean doesn't trust Cas alone in the toilet, and he thinks to himself that it would be more awkward if he wasn't a prostitute before, because by now he's use to behind in a toilet cubical with another man. Just this time, the man's taking his pants down to take a shit, not be fucked.

Cas seemed too bothered about doing his business rather than having an audience. He does what he has to do, and then lets Dean take a piss.

They leave the toilets in a better frame of mind than when they went in. They start to walk towards the entrance when Cas' stomach rumbles, right when they walk past the small McDonalds there. Dean sighs and chuckles.

"Fine, we'll get something to eat."  
It feels more like a date than a hostage situation, the way that Cas' playfully waving his chips around in the air, dipping them into his tomato sauce with a goofy smile. Dean smiles fondly at him, but turns it into a glare when Cas smiles back.

Dean notices they both eat slowly, neither one of them wanting to get back into the car. Dean finds himself reaching forward, wiping away a bit of tomato sauce from the corner of Cas mouth. Cas brushes it off, and Dean wants to slap himself for doing so.

Sometimes, Dean had to remind himself that, although it is his profession to make people feel good, this is not the time and place to be trying to please someone. Lucifer is not going to pay Dean for making Cas' final hours feel like he was loved.

Dean's ears picked up when he heard the young couple a few tables down mutter to each other, "Look at those two lads. Aren't they the sweetest?" Dean wanted to punch them.

When they finally finished, Dean stood up, gesturing for Cas to follow. Cas did, staying close. They walked past a small shop, and Dean saw as Cas' eyes wandered to the counter.

"Dean," he mumbled quietly. Dean groaned. He didn't want his cover to be blown, and now that Cas was well fed and had gone the toilet, he had all he reason to run. Cas smirked, and Dean knew this couldn't be good. "I won't run away if you buy me some chocolate."

\---

When they had got back to the car, at long last, Dean felt like it was useless putting Cas back into the bag, since the tape was cut and Cas would just escape. Dean opened the passenger door for Cas, who gave him a questioning look before climbing in. Dean walked around and got in the drivers seat. He clicked the button behind the steering wheel to lock the doors, and then sat silent in his seat. After a few moments, he turned to look at Cas.

"Alright, we need to set some rules."

Cas nodded, suddenly looking less bold than he did in the mall. Dean wiped his palm over his stubble as he thought.

"Rule one, don't try to escape."

Cas rolled his eyes. Like that wasn't obvious.

"Rule two, if you disobey any of the rules, I'll buy tape and put you back in the bag, and you won't get any food or water or toilet stops until we get where we're going."

Cas nodded. He seemed to appreciate the toilet stop, and the chocolate bar he was quietly munching on.

"Rule three, you do whatever I say, without any questioning. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to play along, you play along. If I tell you to kill someone, you do just that. Got it?"

Cas stared at Dean like a madman.

"Got it?" Dean asked again, his voice stronger this time. Cas nodded violently.

"Rule four, you can sit in the front as long as you don't try and do anything. You speak only when spoken to my myself, and you do not talk to anyone else."

"You're starting to repeat yourself," Cas said, smiling slightly.

"I don't care."

"You said about my position in the car twice, and you said about my authority twice."

Dean grabbed hold of the steering wheel of the motionless car and gripped it tight. Normally he'd slap someone who disobeyed him like this. Put them in their place, because that's what dominants to in sex. But in this situation, Dean had to cope with it and be sneaky.

"Do you promise you'll follow all of my rules?"

Cas was silent for a moment before he nodded his head. "Oh course, Sir."

It was instincts to get excited when people called him 'Sir' or 'Master', so it wasn't Dean's fault that he found it hard to drive away from the service station without his pants becoming a little bit constrictive.

Only a little, because he would not give Cas the pleasure of knowing his influence over Dean.

\---

"Where are we going?"

"I don't know."

"How long will it take?"

"I don't know."

"Then just look at the sat nav. It tells you at the bottom."

Dean glanced down at the sat nav and sighed. "Nine hours."

"Oh, okay."

Cas turned and looked back out of his window. Dean gripped the steering wheel. He hated how this boy was so chatty. Surely he must know that this road trip is leading to his death. Dean sighed again and reached down to turn the radio on, only to remember that it wasn't working. He wanted to close his eyes in frustration, but he needed to drive.

"Oh, there's a service station up ahead. Can we get something to eat, please?"

Dean glared at the road. "We ate two hours ago."

"I know, but I'm hungry again."

Dean really wasn't liking this. He wished he had followed orders and had not opened the bag. He wished he had never met Cas.

"We're not pulling over."

"Why?"

Dean gripped the wheel. "Because we need to get where we're going."

The car was silent for a few moments, and then Cas let out a scream. Dean almost lost control of the car in surprise, gaining it back quickly. Cas thrashed his arms around, screaming and crying things like "help" and "rape" as loud as he could. Dean knew nobody could hear him- they were in the middle of the God damn motorway- but Cas' screams annoyed the shit out of him.

Ten seconds into screaming and Dean was on the verge of killing Cas himself.

"Fine," he exclaimed, sharply turning the wheel to the left. They drove up the exit to the roundabout and pulled into the service station and parked the car near the back.

Dean turned and glared at Cas, who had now shut up. "You really are annoying, you know that. No wonder Lucifer wants you dead."

Silence loomed over the car. Cas looked like he had just watched a baby get shot in the head. His eyes were wide and his mouth was ajar, hurt and fear consuming the once smiley face. Dean would have felt bad if it weren't for the fact that we wasn't suppose to feel anything towards this man. No compassion, no pity. Nothing.

Cas closed his mouth into a sad frown, his eyes scrunching, and he looked on the verge of tears. "You- you think I'm annoying?"

Dean wanted to comfort him, but didn't. "Yes, yes you are annoying. Extremely."

Cas turned to face away from Dean, looking out his window to the few shops that were at his service station. Dean let out a shaky sigh, placing his forehead against the steering wheel. He silently counted to ten in his head, then rose to look at Cas.

"What did you want from here anyway?"

Cas ignored him. Dean pouted but then got out of the car and walked around to Cas' side, throwing the door open and grabbing Cas' collar and dragging him out. "You wanted to come here, so here you are."

He pulled Cas over to the shops, Cas pulling back in slight protest. Dean knew that Cas wasn't going to be as co-operative as he was before, but he knew the sooner they were back on the road, the better.

They walked into the Boots there, and Dean picked up two meal deals for the both of them while Cas glanced around the shelves of brightly coloured bottles of perfume and drugs. Dean paid and dragged Cas back out, handing him his sandwich. They got back into the car and ate in silence.

"So, what's going to happen to me when we get to where we're going?" Cas asked timidly. This was the first time Cas had acknowledged the fact that he was going to die.

Dean scrunched up the plastic wrapper of the sandwich and threw it into Cas' foot-well. He didn't want to answer truthfully, didn't want to tell him about Perrie, so answered with, "I don't know."

"Why doesn't Lucifer just kill me himself? Why does he have to me to bloody- I don't know- Australia to kill me?"

"He probably had his reasons..."

Cas accepted this. "So, do you work for Lucifer?"

Dean shook his head. "It's a bit complicated." He didn't want to have to explain to Cas why everything was happening the way it was. Lucifer could have picked any one of his men to do the job, but Lucifer chose Dean, because he knew just how to manipulate him.

"So, I'm going to die, aren't I..."

"Why do you have to ask questions all of the time? I don't know, Cas. Lucifer asked me to take you there; I don't know what else goes on in his freakish mafia crap."

Cas coiled in on himself at Dean's outburst. He lent back in his seat and stared out of his window. He was quiet for a moment, before silently mumbling, "We should get going..."

Dean turned the key in the car and pulled out, driving back onto the motorway.

\---

When they arrived at Dover, it was getting dark. The sat nav was telling Dean to take the ferry across to France, and after quickly realising everything, he pulled up at a Holiday Inn and placed his forehead on the steering wheel.

"Are you staying here tonight?" Cas asked, looking at the glowing Holiday Inn logo.

"Probably," Dean said. He thought about it for a moment. He and Cas would both need passports to get into France, and even if Lucifer had somehow put Dean's passport in the car (which Dean expected, since the sat nav and gun were so carefully placed), they'd expect Dean to be transporting Cas still in the bag. The French boarder security would find Cas and arrest Dean. Making the journey across with Cas was almost impossible.

Dean jumped out of the car, Cas following in toe. Dean needed time to device a plan. They both walked towards the Holiday Inn. Before they got there, Dean grabbed Cas' arm.

"Any funny moves, and I'll make sure this gun is put to good use," he roughly whispered into Cas' ear, and then let go of his arm. Cas nodded.

They got a room, and to Dean surprise, the receptionist must have assumed they were lovers, and had given them a double bed to share. Not that Dean minded too much, since he was use to sleeping with strangers, but he didn't want to be too close to Cas.

Cas went and lay on the bed straight away, sighing as he relaxed.

"It'll be good to get a good night sleep before my death tomorrow," he said, smiling up at the ceiling with his eyes closed.

Dean glared at him. How could he be so relaxed about his death. He had to ask. He sat down on the bed and lay next to Cas.

"Why are you like this?"

Cas turned his head and gave Dean a questioning look.

"Why are you so calm?"

Cas smiled with a little laugh, turning to look back at the roof. "I don't know. I guess I've had time to think about it- you know, when I was stuck in that bag."

Dean hummed in response. He was silent while he thought, but then asked, just out of curiosity, "Why does Lucifer want you dead?"

Cas audibly sighed, and then chuckled as he covered his weary eyes with his hands. "My father was an arse to him." Cas chuckled again, tucking his legs onto the bed. "I think he owed Lucifer something. I think think he gave him what he wanted, so they took me."

"I don't get why you have to go to France to be killed. Why doesn't Lucifer just kill you?"

"I'm wondering the same..."

"What did they do to you before I showed up?" Dean was genuinely curious. He was bad for that.

Cas chuckled- Dean was still wondering why he was so calm as to chuckle- and then answered. "They kidnapped me. Had me tied to a chair, slapping me, trying to make me cry and beg for my release. I did cry; I mean, who wouldn't if they had whips and sticks to hit you with."

Dean thought of his BDSM encounters, how those people were begging for more, not for him to stop.

"At one point they got a video camera out. Apparently my father was watching them torture me. Lucifer came in the room at that point- hardly saw anything of him the entire time- and he told my father to give him the money or they'll kill me. I think Lucifer had a ear piece to hear my father, because I didn't hear anything, but then Lucifer laughed and said that he'd kill me, and that my father was a terrible father."

Dean turned onto his side to face Cas. "So your dad's not gonna save you?"

"Nah. He isn't actually my father, anyway. My real father left when I was young. The arse who doesn't love me if the father of my half-sisters. He only cares about them; Lucifer made a mistake taking me. I guess Lucifer assumed that taking me was a good idea because I'm the oldest, and his 'son'..."- Cas made bunny ears with his fingers- "but it's not like I'm going to inherit his wealth. Lottie will get it all."

"She your sister?"

"Yeah..." Cas was silent, but then moved his hands to look at the ceiling. "I liked her, you know. She was nice to me." He paused. "She's probably worried about me."

"You'll be fine," Dean said instinctively, but then realised the situation. "Or maybe not..."

"Thanks for that," Cas said sarcastically, but then, with a small laughed, turned to face away from Dean, tucking his knees up into his chest.

Dean thought he was ignoring him now, but then Cas asked, "What about you? What were you doing before this? Were you scrubbing Lucifer's shoes, or something?"

Dean knew he shouldn't open up too much to the boy, he knows this too well from his job, but he decided to tell him anyway. "I don't work for Lucifer. He just asked me to do him a favour."

"A favour? Dude, you're his Postman Pat, with his first class package being me!"

Dean laughed at Cas joke, but then continued. "He's offering me a lot of money for this."

"It's always about the money, isn't it..."

Dean could feel the little waves of hatred floating across the bed. "He took my brother. I was going to refuse the money, but he took Sam."

"Sam? I thought your name was Sam." Cas sat up and turned to face Dean.

Dean bit his lip. Oh yeah, he forgot he told Cas his name was Sam. Dean sat up as well, crossing his legs under him.

"Sorry. I didn't want to tell you my real name." Cas was glaring at him, so Dean decided to tell him the truth. "I'm Dean." When Cas continued to glare, Dean reached into his back pocket and brought out his wallet, showing Cas his bank card. Cas seemed convinced and stop glaring.

"I guess it's understandable," he said, looking down at his knees.

Dean knew it would regret saying it, but he did anyway. "I'm actually a prostitute."

Cas stared at him for a second, before bursting into laughter. "Wait- wait a moment," he gasped, "you're a hooker?"

Dean nodded, grinning and slightly blushing. "I know; why is a hooker playing postman?"

Cas slapped his knee in laughter, trying to calm himself down. "Well, damn, I guess that's the reason why there's been so much sexual tension!"

The laughter stopped at that. Dean saw it: the look that burnt through Cas' eyes in a matter of nanoseconds. He watched as Cas' eyes grew slowly, his lips gently growing bigger. He knew it was going to happen.

Cas was a little bitch. He had been trying to trick Dean the whole journey, and Dean knew that this was the part where Cas was to get him in his trap, and then escape later.

Two can play at that game.

Dean sat up on his knees, reaching across the bed, leaning on one hand by Cas' legs and gently placing his other palm on Cas' jaw line, pulling Cas forward to meet halfway. Their lips met, and although to Dean, this was normal, not different, he heard Cas moan a little. Cas' chest was undoubtedly exploding with fireworks. Cas was in the trap, not Dean.

Cas hooked his arms around the back of Dean's neck, one hand tangling its fingers in Dean's chocolate curls, pulling Dean down on top of him. Dean slotted himself between Cas' legs, skillfully thrusting forward. Cas was already half-hard. Bingo.

He could feel Cas' tongue poking at the seam of his lips, but Dean was the one in control tonight. He pulled away, attaching his lips to the spot under Cas' ear, sucking hard, earning himself a low moan from the smaller boy.

Cas trusted his hips upwards, one hand scratching it's way down Dean's neck and between his should blades. They would have gone further, if not for Dean's shirt stopping him.

Cas groaned, letting out a shaky, "Sam..."

Dean stopped at that. He didn't know why it felt to weird; he was use to being called many names during sex, but this was different.

He sat up on his knees, looking down at Cas. Cas realised. "Dean. I told you, my real name is Dean."

Cas sat up, leaning back on his hands. "Sorry, Dean. I'm sorry."

Dean was suddenly not in the mood for any of this. There was never any fireworks, because fireworks need a flame to ignite them. He told himself this metaphor was stupid, because you can have a flame, and not put it close to the firework.

Dean stood up, rubbing his face with his palm, and walked to the en suit of the room. He locked the door behind him, leaning back on it and sighing. He could hear Cas wanking in the next room, and he ignored it. He didn't need to wank. He didn't need anything. Except sleep. Cas finished, so he walked back into the room and lay in the bed, facing away from Cas.

He couldn't sleep, thinking about how he was going to get Cas over the boarder. He could feel Cas tossing and turning. He assumed Cas thought he was asleep, and he almost jumped when he felt an arm snake around his waist.

Cas was going to die tomorrow. He may as well let him.

\---

When he woke up, Cas was gone. He wanted to scream.

How could he be so stupid. Sam was going to die now, all because he let Cas out of his sight. He jumped out of bed, ignoring the morning wood he was sprouting, and ran towards the door of the room. He took note of the sounds as he walked past the en suit, then realised the shower was on, and a lad was in there, making sounds you would expect from someone else who woke up with morning wood.

The door was unlocked, which Dean couldn't help but feel like it was left like that on purpose, and he entered to see the slim, curvy back of Cas. And that arse.

Dean glared as Cas looked innocently over his shoulder. "Oh, morning Dean." He slowly, suggestively, rubbed his shower gel covered hands down his arms and onto his hips, leaving a trail of white soap bubbles behind, framing his arse with a perfect halo. Dean gulped. This was not helping the situation in his own pants.

"You look like you need a shower, Dean," Cas said with a grin, and then his eyes flickered down. "You definitely need a shower, you dirty little slut."

"I'm not a slut," Dean said defensively.

Cas smirk and slowly turned around, facing Dean, showing Dean everything at the front. "Oh, but Dean, you are a slut. A dirty, little slut who has sex for money." Cas raised a hand, his fingers curling, signalling Dean forward.

Dean reached down and took his T-shirt off. His jeans were already off, since he didn't sleep in them, so Dean was stood in front of the shower in just his boxers.

Cas placed a finger under Dean's chin, leaning down so they were eye to eye. He smiled, his eyes flickering down to Dean's lips, and with that they were covered with his own lips. A sound caught in Dean's throat, surprising himself, but then he couldn't help bringing his hands to hold Cas' soap-covered hips steadily, leaning further into the kiss.

Cas starter to stand up straight while kissing, making Dean lean further into it. Dean wanted more, he didn't care anymore, and lifted a leg over the side of the bath and stepped under the waterfall, his boxers getting more drenched. He pushed Cas back into the wall, their cocks lining up next to each other, hips thrusting together.

Cas kept their lips together, his tongue attempting to enter again, succeeding this time, Dean pulling Cas' tongue in with a moan.

They stood like that for a few minutes, lips locked, tongues flicking, hips thrusting, until Cas pulled away, pressing his lips to Dean's throat.

"I took the liberty of prepping myself," he mumbled into Dean's skin. Dean moaned, a hand on Cas' waist trailing down between Cas' butt cheeks, tracing Cas' hole, and- yes, he had prepped himself.

Dean groaned, a combination of the through of Cas fingering himself and Cas sucking his neck right now, and he took a step back, turning Cas around and pushing his body flush against the wall, Cas' face squashed on the white tiles. Cas moaned, and grunted, "Fuck me, Dean."

It was a matter of seconds for Dean to take off his boxers and slide in. They moaned in harmony, and Dean shut his eyes in bliss. Cas was right: there has been sexual tension between the two.

He slowly opened his eyes, feeling Cas pushing backwards onto his cock, and started to thrust forward, his cock burying itself deeper into the smaller boy.

It really didn't take much. He was so close, even before he entered Cas, and within a matter of a few thrusts, the familiar sensation was bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He bent forward, pressing his cheek into Cas' shoulder blades.

Cas screamed a moan, and Dean laced his hand around, folding his fingers over Cas' cock, and a few strokes he felt his hand become wet again, Cas letting out a string of moans and mumbled Dean's name.

Dean let go, and his vision turned to black momentarily. He regained his senses again to find he and Cas laying in the bath, Cas still sat on Dean's softening cock, but both too tired to even move. It was surely half an hour before Cas sat up slowly, his knees weak and wobbly, and he reached up and turned the shower off. He got out of the shower, grabbing and towel and throwing another at Dean.

"I think we should be going soon. Death waits for no one."

Dean smiled stupidly up at the ceiling, resting the back of his head on the side of the bath. He didn't want to leave. Ever.

\---

"Why did we stop?"

Dean was gripping the wheel, staring at the stretch of hard shoulder in front of him. Cars were whizzing past him, and he quickly turned on his hazard lights.

"Dean?"

"Cas, you can't go."

"What?"

"I can't take you there."

Cas reached across and placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Do you pity me, or something?"

Dean flared his arms in frustration. "No, I physically can't take you there. I've checked the car. Neither of us have passports. We can't get to France."

"Is that where we're going?"

"I think..."

They were both silent for a moment before Cas spoke. "Why don't we just go back to Lucifer and ask for passports? I'm sure he'll give us some; fake passports, even. He can't have been that much of an idiot not to give you passports."

"He'll kill us both if we go back for passports."

"Then why not use that gun of yours?"

Dean looked confused at Cas for a moment- like, really, was this guy wanting to get killed or something- but then he reached behind and took his gun from his jeans. He checked the chamber.

"I only have six bullets."

"That's enou-"

"I'm not gonna kill people, Cas. I can't."

Cas smirked. "So if I had told someone you were holding me hostage, you wouldn't have killed them?"

Dean hit his forehead, too much frustration, and sighed. "Yes, Cas, I wouldn't have killed them. I'm too much of a wimp."

"But technically you're killing me."

Dean glared at Cas. "That doesn't matter."

"So, I don't matter, right?" Cas hit his knees. "I'm just another client to you. Another useless fuck, right?"

Dean groaned. Cas didn't get it.

"We had sex because we were both horny, and you were being a sly little fuck."

Cas pouted at this and turned to look out of the window. They both thought for a moment before Dean reached forward and turned the key again. "We'll turn around. I'm sure the sat nav will show us where to go."

He turned the hazard light off and pulled back onto the road, and at the next roundabout he turned onto the other side of the motorway, heading North.

\---

It was around lunch time that Cas convinced Dean to pull in at a service station to get lunch. They both sat down in the Subway with their sandwiches in silence. There hadn't been much talking the past few hours, Cas still pissed off at Dean. Dean didn't really know what to expect. Maybe Cas was just pissed off that his plan wasn't working properly. He hoped Cas did realise that Dean was delaying his death by a few days.

Cas was looking over Dean's shoulder at the car park. Dean watched as his face scrunched.

"What?" he said dryly.

Cas scrunched his lips and the spoke. "I know there's not much choice on a motorway, but I think that car's been following us."

Dean turned to look over his shoulder, and yes, a black car with tinted windows was parked right next to Dean's car. He had noticed it on the motorway. It was driving right behind Dean, not bothering to overtake him, even though Dean was going slightly under the speed limit. It did seem awfully strange that it had parked next to them.

They both watched the car for a second before Dean turned around to continue eating. He took a bite, enjoying the chicken, when Cas said something that stopped him.

"It's them."

Cas jumped up from his chair, leaving his sandwich on the table, his eyes wide with fear. Dean turned around quickly to see three men getting out of the car. They were obviously Lucifer's men. They had turned around, and now they were being followed.

Dean stood up next to Cas. The few other customers and staff were looking at them curiously, the show they were putting on was certainly interesting. Dean couldn't face these men; they'd shoot Dean without an explanation and take Cas. Dean had to get back to Lucifer before his men killed him.

Dean grabbed Cas' hand and pulled him behind the counter, pushing past the sandwich makers and into the kitchen. He spotted the door at the back and ran to it, pressing the emergency open bar and leaping out, Cas close by.

They ran around the side of the building. They needed to get to the car without being caught, and then he needed to outrun the men. Simple, right?

Turning the last corner of the building, they spotted the car, but a black suited body stood in the way. Dean pulled Cas behind him, and something controlled him. His hand reached for the gun, and he pulled it out, and without even thinking there was a bullet bedded in the man's brain, and his body flopped onto the floor.

Cas gasped, a hand on Dean's shoulder. The shot was fired at such a close distance that blood had splattered across Dean and Cas' faces. Dean wanted to wipe it off, but another man was running towards them.

He pulled Cas back against the wall. He knew he couldn't waste bullets, and he knew he was a crap shooter at a long distance, so waited for the man to come around the corner. He was possessed again, his stomach heaving as he watched the hole appear in the man's eye socket, and his body turned and collapsed next to the other dead body.

Cas was grabbing his arm, shaking as he watched this previously gentle man become a killing monster. He had underestimated Dean. He had wondered why Lucifer had hired him, and now he could see why. He may have been a shit shooter, and he may want to throw up at the thought of killing, but Dean was a determined man, and if months of prostitution have taught him anything, it's how to cope with things he doesn't like.

Dean waited for the third man to run around the building, but then realised that nobody was coming. If Dean were that man, he would come around the other wa-

Cas scream, and Dean felt him being dragged away from where he was clutching at Dean side. Dean spun around, his gun pointed, and shit. The man had Cas in front of him, using Cas as a shield, a gun held to Cas head. They all stood still, waiting for someone to move.

"Winchester, what do you think you're doing?" the man asked. Dean ignored him. "We you trying to help this man?"

"We need passports," Cas said quickly, and the man shook him violently, pressing the gun further into Cas' temple.

Cas locked eyes with Dean. He was scared, but Dean could see that other look in his eye. The same look Cas had every time he was planning something. Dean gave him a small smile. Cas had a brain; his plan would work, he knew it.

Cas quickly reached behind, gripping his fingers into the man's hair, and pulled his head into view. The man went to retaliate, but with one look at Cas and a small prayer that he didn't hit him, Dean shot the gun.

They both fell to the ground, and for a second Dean thought he had killed Dean. He ran over, leaning over to see the hole in the man's head.

Cas screamed. It was more scared that his other screams, more pain filled. Dean reached down and pulled Cas up. There was blood, and Dean's mind was going over how to perform CPR. Cas was clutching his hand, screaming his lungs out. Dean grabbed his wrist and looked at his hand to find a chunk of his hand below his baby finger missing. Dean wanted to scream himself, and the wave of nausea crashed over him again.

He reacted quickly. He took off his T-shirt, wrapping it around Cas bleeding hand, bringing Cas' hand up to place it on his opposite shoulder.

"Cas, I need you to listen to me," he said while shushing the agony-filled boy. He brushed a hand through Cas' hair, and in instinct leaned forward and placed a kiss on the small boy's forehead.

"I need to get some stuff. Stay here. Do not go anywhere, okay."

He knew more of Lucifer's men could come and take Cas while he ran to the Boots shop there was next to the Subway, but he had no choice. He stood up and ran to the Boots, crashing into the shop like a zombie, covered in blood and looking around urgently. The staff must have heard the gunshots and he was being handed bandages, antiseptic liquids and slings, the staff unknowingly given their stock to the person who fired the shots, and Dean was shouting quick thank you's and running back to Cas.

Cas was still there, screaming when he got back. He knelt down in front of him, taking Cas' hand in his gently and unwrapping his T-shirt. It was ruined, but he could just buy a new one. He opened the antiseptic liquid thing- he wasn't too sure what it was- and poured it over Cas hand. Cas screamed more, his hands tearing and ripping on the tarmac had he gripped it in pain. Dean noticed and poured some on his other hand as well, just in case. He unwrapped the bandages quickly, giving it his best shot at wrapping the wound up. He never really knew first aid that much, but he got them on and he hoped that the bleeding would stop soon.

He had no idea how the sling worked, trying and failing a few times to get it on, and in the end Cas, having gained some strength, helped him out, obviously knowing more than what Dean did.

"You'll be okay, Lou. Just... just hold on, okay?"

Cas looked at Dean through lidded eyes. He was pale. Dean threw the rest of the bandages and one of the men's guns onto Cas' lap, hooked an arm under Cas' leg and another under his back and picked Cas up. Stepping over one of the dead bodies, Dean carried Cas back to the car and placed him in the passenger seat. He jumped into the drivers seat and drove quickly, knowing the police would show up any moment now.

Back on the motorway again, Cas spluttering and crying, clutching his hand where it lay on his shoulder. Dean sighed. He knew there was no way he was going to let this man die.

He was screwed.

\---

They stopped at another service station to buy Dean a T-shirt and Cas some chocolate, because Dean thought that chocolate might calm him down a little bit. He couldn't imagine the pain Cas was going through, and he was surprised that Cas hadn't passed out or died on him, but he was glad that Cas was alive.

At the new service station, there was a Premier Inn, and since they both had to sit down and think of what they were going to do, they decided to stay there the night. They were at risk of Lucifer finding them, but they didn't care. For now, they needed to think.

They got asked about Cas' hand when they entered, but they brushed it off and got a room close to the door, for quick escape.

Cas climbed into the bed and tried not to start crying again. He was scared and in pain, and Dean felt bad for him. Dean sat next to him and rubbed a hand over his back.

"What are we going to do?" Cas asked, staring at the wall.

Dean shrugged. "I can't let them hurt you."

Cas turned to look at Dean, a faint smile on his face. "Why? You won't get paid."

"I never cared about the money."

"But what about Sam?"

"He's probably dead already. They won't give me a chance to explain about the passports, not that I want to take you anymore." Dean paused. "You can leave, if you want."

"No!" Cas shouted, he sat up and used his free hand to shove Dean hard. "They'll find me and kill me if I was alone, and you know that. So much for trying to save me. I really don't get you. One minute you're a deadly Postman Pat, then you're a straight-faced prostitute, then you're a loving sweetheart, and now..."

Dean locked eyes with Cas.

Cas glared. "I hate you, Dean. I hate everything about you!"

Dean knelt on the bed, glaring back.

"I hate the things you say. I hate that you break all of your promises. I hate how you can see through all of my plans. I hate how you such up to Lucifer like a little bitch. I hate how you fucked me just because that's your job. I hate that your brother got caught. I hate you. I hate you so much. I h-"

Cas was shoved backwards so hard, and he screamed when Dean's body crushed his hand. His scream was dissolved into Dean's mouth, his lips devoured by Dean's. His eyes shut, and he ignored the pain and anger. This was passion. This was hope.

This was love.

He pushed Dean back, shoved him into the bed just as hard as Dean had done, straddling his hips and slamming his lips back into Dean's.

It hurt so much, but neither of them cared. Dean told himself, fuck the fireworks, the whole room was burning down, the bed sheets on fire and the wallpaper combusting quicker than a trail of gunpowder.

Cas was not going to get hurt from anyone except Dean. Rough sex against walls and crushed hands. It was Dean's job to hurt Cas, to mark his claim on his and call him his.

And Cas wouldn't have it any other way.

\---

Neither could sleep that night. They sat up talking.

"What is Sam was still alive?"

"I doubt it. Lucifer assumes I cowered out. He would have killed Sam by now."

"But we could still save him."

Dean admired Cas optimism. "So what, we storm into Lucifer's HQ and just take Sam back from them?"

Cas thought for a moment and then said, "Well, if I was Lucifer, I probably would have been smart enough to figure out what we are doing. He had the track on us, doesn't he. He would be able to see that we're heading back his way. He would have figured out about the passports. I think Lucifer will use Sam to try and get you to continue your job, or at least give me to someone else to do the job for him." Cas paused, then said with a confident smile, "I'd put money on it."

Dean raised an eyebrow and smiled. "You think?"

Cas nodded and then placed his head on Dean's legs and were hung over the edge of the bed. Dean reached down and tangled his fingers into the feathery hair. The blood had been washed off both of their bodies, and Cas' hair was not sticky anymore and was now fresh and soft. He could sit there all night like this, with Cas' head in his lap and his hand in Cas' hair, but then Cas groaned, clutching his hand.

Dean got up and went to the en suit and opened the cabinet to find the box of pain killers he had found before. He brought them back to Cas with a glass of water and gave him two.

"You'll be fine, Lou," he whispered, petting his hair again. "We'll be okay."

\---

Dean woke up surprised that Lucifer's men hadn't attacked. He was even more surprised that Cas wound wasn't infected when he changed the bandages. He was exceedingly surprised that Cas was right about Lucifer.

They sat in Dean's car, after discussion of what to do, to find a new type of sat nav placed on the wind shield. Cas was the one to notice it, and when they turned it on a message appeared on the screen.

'You want Sam? Need passports?  
The Ferry Inn, Scrabster, Thurso, KW14 7UJ'

"Where the fuck is that?" Dean asked. Cas took the sat nav off the window and messed around a bit before chuckling.

"Scotland."

"Where about in Scotland?"

Cas showed Dean the map where a pin point was showing at the very top of the UK island. Dean gasped and then chuckled, despite being pissed off. "He really isn't making it easy for us, is he?"

Dean turned the key in the car. "Well, we better get going then."

Cas pointed upwards with a bright smile. "To Narnia!"

\---

"I spy with my little eye, something beginning with..." Cas looked around. There was a lot of cars stopped around them, and not much to actually choose. They hadn't moved in the past hour, and Cas had started a game of I Spy to pass the time. "... D. Something beginning with D."

Dean looked at the car in front and sighed. "Dog."

"Correct!" Cas said loudly. "Your turn!"

Dean sighed again. He was bored. He didn't want to face Lucifer, but he didn't want to be stuck in traffic right now. He was paranoid of more of Lucifer's men showing up, though Cas had reasoned with him, saying they would leave them alone now, but Dean was still worried.

"I spy a exit," Dean said, noticing the exit sign between a few cars up ahead. It had the yellow 'M' of McDonalds and the white bed logo indicating a Premier Inn or a Holiday Inn, or something along the lines of a place to sleep.

Cas sighed. "Dean, you're not suppose to tell me what you've spotted."

Dean laughed and patted Cas' leg. "Never mind, Lou. I think we should eat there. When we get there, we'll go to Maccies, eh?"

Cas smiled and nodded.

It was half an hour later that they managed to squeeze their way to the exit and sat down in McDonalds with two Big Mac's.

Cas played with his chips again, waving his chips around and dunking them, only this time he was feeding Dean the chips. Dean laughed, licking the tomato sauce off of his lips every time Cas missed. Cas' laugh unified Dean's. This time when people commented cute things about them he wanted to hug them instead of punch them. He liked Cas, more than he should. He doesn't regret opening that bag, and he didn't think he'd ever regret it in the whole of the rest of his life.

The booked into Holiday Inn, Dean wondering how long it would be until his bank card ran out of money, and they both jumped onto the bed, Dean being careful with Cas' hand. Dean was bent over Cas, their foreheads pressed together and their noses being crushed.

"Dean," Cas said, his eyes closed tightly as he laughed. Dean laughed as well, smiling down.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you more."

"I love you most."

\---

It was around lunch time the next day that Dean starts to feel the butterflies in his stomach. He tells himself it's because he's hungry, but he knows it's because they're getting close to the place where they need to be. A few hours ago they passed the Scottish boarder, and they were almost there.

"What's the plan again?" Cas asked again, pulling at the sling that was still wrapped around his neck.

"We walk in. Going by theory, Sam will be there as well. They'll probably be putting on a show, holding him at gun point, or some shit like that. They'll give us the passports, and then- have you still got that gun?"

Cas held up the gun Dean had given him from one of the men that had attacked them. Dean smiled.

"Then, when I say 'I guess we'll go then', we shoot them. They'll probably shoot us back, so we have to be quick about it. Then we get Sam and get out of there." Dean paused. "How many bullets do you have?"

Cas check the chamber. "Two."

"Three," Dean said.

Five bullets. They had a chance.

"I'm a good shooter. My father, despite being an arsehole, did teach me how to shoot when I was young. He only started hating me when I came out to him."

Dean was silent. He was hating Cas' father more and more now. Not saving him, being homophobic... What else; did this man rape Cas' mother as well?

Cas sat upright and clutched Dean's arm on the steering wheel. Dean looked around, thinking he had spotted some of Lucifer's men, but then saw the signpost.

"We're here."

They found The Ferry Inn easily and parked the car in the car park. They walked in to find it this hotel to be quite normal. Dean thought quickly and assumed Lucifer had booked a room in his name.

"Have you got a room for Winchester?"

The man at the reception looked over the register and nodded and handed Dean a key, muttering an "Enjoy your stay" as they walked towards their room.

They stood outside the door silently, looking at each other. Cas gave Dean an encouraging smile. "We'll be fine," he mouthed and gave another smile, patting his back where the gun was. It would be fine.

Dean opened the door slowly, and, as part of acting, pushed Cas roughly into the room. He walked in behind as Cas dropped to his knees on the floor. Lucifer was stood by the bed, four of his men stood next to him. Dean spotted Sam behind held, like he predicted, by one of the men at gun point. He wanted to chuckle, but now wasn't the time.

Lucifer was grinning at Dean, that smile that Dean had grown to hate. His wrist flicked up to reveal two passports in his hand.

"Since this little bitch is out of his cage," Lucifer said, stepping forward towards where Cas was knelt, "I guess he had to have a passport as well." Lucifer held the passports out to Dean. Dean reached out to grab them off him when Lucifer grabbed his wrist with his other hand, gripping it tightly, nails digging into Dean's veins.

"Oh Dean," he sighed, stepping closer so that he was in Dean's face, "I do recall telling my men to tell you to not look in the bag. You seem to have a tendency to disobey orders." He finally shoved the passports into Dean's hand and turned around to walk back.

Dean opened the first passport. It was Cas', except this passport said that his name was Jimmy Smith. Dean raised an eyebrow at Lucifer. "Fake names?"

"Naturally."

Dean opened the other passport to see his own face behind the shiny plastic coating. He then noticed the name. Sam Winchester. He wouldn't have thought much of it at first, but then he realised it.

When he faked his name to Cas, he had used Sam's name.

Lucifer had no only been following them, but listening to every word they had been saying.

Cas had a microphone on him somewhere.

He tried not to react and nodded, putting the passports into his pocket. He could tell that Lucifer knew their plan. Lucifer knew that they were going to shoot them. Dean took a second glance at the men. Bullet-proof vests. Bullet-proof pants. Bullet-proof hats.

Shit.

They had five bullets, and five people to kill. They couldn't waste bullets on them. But Dean had to play along. He had to take care. He couldn't tell Cas not to attack. He just wouldn't say 'well I guess we'll go then', that way Cas wouldn't attack. Change the plan. They couldn't save Sam.

"Well," Lucifer said, grinning at Dean, "I guess you'll go then."

Dean thanks his lucky stars that Cas didn't react. Lucifer was probably expecting them to attack, or at least for Dean to agree and say the line, but nothing happened. Lucifer's face dropped a little, Dean noticed, but he continued grinning.

"What's gonna happen with Sam?" Dean asked. Lucifer raised an eyebrow but then turned to look at the blonde.

"Once you drop this bitch off, we'll have him returned to your apartment."

Dean glared. "How do I know you won't kill him while I'm gone."

Lucifer sighed, obviously waiting for the action scene shootout to happen. He looked Dean in the eye and said, "I promise I will not kill Sam."

"Promise?"

Lucifer groaned. "I just did."

Dean glared at Lucifer, then nodded. "Okay." He looked down at Cas and shoved him with his foot. "Come on, bitch, let's go."

Cas looked up at Dean, confusion on his face. Dean grabbed Cas' shoulder and pulled him up, shaking him to come. He dragged Cas out of the room and into the corridor then stopped as soon as the door closed behind them.

Cas was about to ask why they didn't attack when Dean put a hand over his mouth. He looked over Cas' body, searching for the microphone. He spotted it a few minutes later, clipped onto the back of his jeans. He pulled it off and threw it on the floor, crushing it beneath his shoe. Cas looked confused at him, but then Dean whispered, "They were listening to everything we said. They knew we were going to attack."

"Let's run back in there and attack. They won't suspect it, then!"

Cas did have a point. Dean nodded. He got his gun out, Cas doing the same. He opened the door again and jumped it. Cas was right; he was a good shooter. Two of the men, their helmets taken off after they thought they had left, went down with holes in their heads, one of them luckily being the man who was holding Sam.

Sam ran and hid behind Dean. He was a coward.

Dean grabbed one of the guys, too surprised to realise what was happening, and shoved his gun into his mouth. He'd need a shower after, the amount of blood that splattered over his face. He didn't trust his aim with the last one, who was across the room, so in an act of desperation he threw the gun to Cas.

Cas, Dean thought, was an angel sent from God. Amazing catching skills, amazing reaction time, amazing aim. The last man went down, and they were left with Lucifer.

Cas pointed his gun at Lucifer, eyes glaring at him. Lucifer was shell-shocked. His mouth was open and his eyes wide, his hands placed on his head in surrender.

Dean turned around to see Sam. He was fine. He smiled at his brother, who quickly wrapped his arms around him.

"God, Dean, I was so scared," he whispered into Dean's shirt. Dean held onto his brother.

"It's okay, Sam. Let's just get home, okay?" Dean led Sam to the door. Before they left, be turned around to face Cas. "Just shoot him, Lou. He deserves it."

Dean wasn't too sure what possesses Cas to put the into his pants and walk backwards slowly. Dean could tell he was glaring at Lucifer. "You owe me, Lucifer. You're in debt to me, now." He then turned around and walked past Dean and Sam.

Dean stood still for a moment, but then Sam started to move. "Come on, Dean."

Dean nodded. They better go. He didn't want anything bad to happe-

Sam fell forward, a gaspy cry falling from his lips. Dean saw the flash of metal and heard the sound. He saw the dagger embedded in Sam's back. Dean turned around to look at Lucifer only to find the bedroom window open and Lucifer missing.

Cas ran back and knelt next to Sam. Dean dropped to his knees. He was in shock.

Cas held Sam's head on his knee, tears in his eyes. Dean could hear Sam's gaspy, shallow breaths, the coughing and spewing and he tried to breath. The dagger was through his ribs and had probably punctured his left lung.

"Dean, what do we do?" Cas screamed, too confused to think himself. Dean shook his head. He didn't know. His brother was drowning in his own blood, and he couldn't do anything to help.

He could tell that Cas wanted to slap him. Dean lent against the wall, staring at Sam's dying body. He wasn't getting help, he wasn't doing anything.

"Dean!"

Sam was coughing up blood all over Cas' knees, his remaining lung slowly filling up with his own blood. Dean could hear the running feat of more of Lucifer's men, coming to kill them. Again, Dean thought quickly, making a decision.

He moved to kneel next to Sam. He knew he wasn't going to survive. He gave Cas a quick look before whispering, "Run. I'll meet you at the car."

Cas got up and started to jog, looking back over his shoulder as Dean pulled the dagger out of Sam's back.

"I'm sorry, brother," Dean whispered, and with that Sam was dead, blood spilling from his split throat, a gaspy last breath haunting Dean's memory forever.

Dean caught up to Cas quicker than he expected, Cas hobbling a little, probably from a twisted ankle. They were both covered in blood, probably looking like zombies. They saw the corridor that lead to the front door.

Shadows on the wall. Lucifer's men were coming that way.

They turned around to run back, but more shadows on that wall. They were cornered.

Cas pulled Dean into the closest room, the cleaning cupboard. There wasn't a lock on the door, so Cas and Dean hid in silence, pressed up against a mop and dusters. Cas pressed his nose into Dean's neck, tears streaming down his face.

"We're gonna die, aren't we, Dean," Cas whispered. Dean couldn't respond. No, he couldn't die. He was not going to let Lucifer take Cas away and kill him. He was not going to let Lucifer kill him. Lucifer didn't deserve the pleasure of their deaths on his hands.

Dean held Cas closer, pressing his head closer to his chest, another arm holding his close around the waist. He closed his eyes, burying his nose into Cas' hair. His tears dripped down onto Cas' head, each one bringing more of the realisation to them.

Cas reached behind himself and got hold of something. Dean was wondering what until he felt Cas pull his head down until their temples were in line. He heard the sound of his gun being cocked.

"Dean," he whispered.

"Cas."

"I love you."

"I love you more."

"I love you most."

\---

The door opened quickly, and Dean turned to look. He recognised that face. It was moonlit last time he saw it, surrounded by broken glass scattered around the floor. It was calm, worried for a second when he saw the gun, but then he smiled sweetly before closing the door.

Cas lowered the gun and looked at Dean. From outside they could hear what was said.

"They're not in here."

"Then keep checking, Gabriel."

Dean smiled at Cas.

Gabriel. He'd have to remember the name of that angel.

\---

It was hours before they thought it was safe to leave. The police had come after the landlord had called after the sound of gunshots, and nobody had checked the cleaning cupboard. They escaped through a window and got to Dean's car. There was a coroners van parked outside the front of The Ferry Inn, a body being loaded in. Dean could help but think that the body was Sam's. Sam had no family left, except for Dean. Sam would be buried in a cheap council graveyard in Scotland, not in Ireland like he had wanted in his will.

Cas sighed and lent back in his seat. "We should go Dean. Someone's gonna notice that we're covered in blood."

Dean nodded, turning the key and starting the car. He drove away from The Ferry Inn, away from his brother, and away from the blood.

"What now?" Cas asked, gazing out of the window at the sea.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know."

"Lucifer's probably wanting out blood."

"I guess he'll have to catch us first."

Cas smirked. "And I guess we'll keep running."

"Where should we go then, Jimmy Smith?"

"I don't know, Sam Winchester-" Cas paused, realising that he could of hurt Dean.

"Yes, I'm Sam Winchester. I was named after a great man."

"A very great man indeed."

Dean grinned. "I think we should go to Australia."

"By car? I think we should go to France."

"France?"

"Ironically..."

Dean laughed, and Cas joined in.

"Dean."

"Cas."

"I love you."

"I love you more."

"I love you most."

Dean smiled. "And after France, Mr Smith, where should we go then."

"To Narnia."

"We'll keep running."

"And we'll never stop."

"Lucifer may catch us and torture us."

"He may separate us."

"He may kill us."

"But we'll never stop running."

"Never stop trying to escape."

Dean held his hand out to Cas, who intertwined his fingers.

"Ever."


End file.
